


Seven Ways To Love Her

by CommanderRoastedWolf



Series: Birds of a Feather [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Pharmercy, rocket angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 21:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7239796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommanderRoastedWolf/pseuds/CommanderRoastedWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fareeha loves Angela in all these ways, and more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Ways To Love Her

Fareeha loves Angela in the dark of the night. Their hands catch together, one heart thundering enough for both of them as flesh moves against flesh, breathless admissions whispered through trembling lips, cursed with fear. They both fear, so much. It is in them, poisoning every stolen moment, tarnishing what should be beautiful with panicked grips.

The bruises fade quickly.

But Fareeha also loves Angela in the dawn. When the light creeps through the windows of Angela’s office, casting the soft glow of the sun over her painfully neat desk and the head resting upon it, Fareeha comes to her side and lifts her from her duties, carrying her to the shelter of a dark room and a comfortable bed.

Dark fingers brush hair from a pale forehead, eyes tightening with affection as lips brush across a cheek. Angela sleeps on. Fareeha closes her door quietly and prepares for her day.

When they are basking in the day, with rain pattering lightly on their armour as they secure the field of enemies, Fareeha loves her. The way she checks on the others, her voice light and careful, laughter happy and carefree when their commander commends them on a job well done.

When they are in the thick of things, and Fareeha rises above others to rain justice on those who would do them harm, Angela soars to her like an avenging angel, her wings outstretched with the brilliance of the sun. The warmth of her heals Fareeha more than any staff could, and Fareeha tells her she loves her when they touch onto the ground, only to get a blush and a laugh. But Angela’s eyes tell her she feels the same.

In the evening they gather around the living room, side by side as the sun sets, burnishing the room in fire. Beers cold in hand, cushions pushing them together, they watch the night fall, hands tangled together. Cool lips brush against a shoulder, and a blonde head settles there with a sigh. Fareeha rests her arm around the woman she loves, holding her gently until they are alone.

When the dark comes they retreat to bed, finding solace between the sheets of their bed and in the way they say each other’s names.

Sometimes they dance together. A slow dance, arm in arm, chest to chest, feet finding an untrodden path around and around as music guides them. Fareeha always closes her eyes when they dance, breathing in Angela’s sweet scent and thanking God for her luck. Sometimes Angela’s arms wrap around her neck, and she murmurs gentle nothings into her ear, whispering their hopes and dreams for a future unmarked by bloodshed and war.

They want a home on the coast. Or in the mountains. They want a daughter, and a marriage. And a dog and a cat. But most of all they want each other, their fates as tangled together as roots from a tree.

Fareeha loves her in six ways, but the seventh is the most important.

The way she speaks, the lit of her voice, it encapsulates her, sending daggers of aching affection into her heart; the deep iron will of her gaze binds her to her, baring Fareeha to Angela as she pours herself into her – every shard of her soul taken willingly. She is breathless, all at once destroyed and remade at her altar. She is her strength, her weakness; her waking thought, her last dream.

She wonders, more than once, if love is supposed to hurt.


End file.
